


Remind You of Someone You Never Met

by BabylonsFall



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ezekiel Jones Remembers, Flashbacks, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/pseuds/BabylonsFall
Summary: Ezekiel's been doing well, all things considered, with the aftermath of the time-loop. Honestly, a bad day was bound to happen. Just his luck it was in the middle of a case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was given this prompt: _Could you write something about Ezekiel having ptsd flashbacks and thinking he's still in the game while they're in the middle of a party or something? Bonus points if it's Jake/Ezekiel?_
> 
> And this is the result!
> 
>  
> 
> _(warnings just in case: ptsd-related flashback, panic attacks)_

Ezekiel was fine.

That wasn’t a deflection by the way. He knew, compared to some other people, and even  _ according _ to some other people, he was definitely  _ not  _ fine. But on his own scale, looking back at where he was months ago - hell, even a couple of weeks ago - he  _ was  _ fine. And in a few months, he knew, he’d be looking back at this moment and going ‘like hell that was fine,  _ this  _ is fine.’

And that was okay too.

Still didn’t mean he wanted to tell anyone on the team. He was dealing with this on his own - whatever  _ this  _ was; PTSD and/or paranoid-anxiety were the two he’d settled on recently, after months of quiet research on his own, poking around online forums and support groups at a pace he felt he could handle.

And he was fine.

Didn’t mean he was perfect though. But, he liked to think his panic attacks and flashbacks were getting more spread out - less frequent, and less intense.

Easier to hide too, if he was being honest. His teammates weren’t stupid, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught him out in a big way. And he’d much rather be a little farther along that  _ fine  _ scale when that happened, thanks.

So, while he knew he wasn’t perfect, he didn’t expect tonight to be all that bad. The clippings book had sent them them out, like normal; this time, running after the Lampades’ Torch, a funny little lighting fixture that had the unfortunate side effect of driving those in its light mad. Ezekiel thought it was a little unfair that the thing could change shape, but that was neither here nor there. He’s sure Jacob had an explanation for it or something - he’d tuned the other man out about halfway through the rant on the Lampades’ connection with Hecate and something about the underworld.

It’s not that he thought Jacob’s explanations were boring - whatever Jenkins said, he actually did find history interesting sometimes (and it had nothing to do with Jacob getting excited at the barest show of interest, not at all) - it’s just that Jacob was  _ still  _ explaining on their way to the frat house they’d tracked the thing down to.

Which. Question. Why a frat house? Jacob probably had an answer to that too, and they’d probably passed it about half an hour ago. Oh well - he could ask Cassandra for the highlights later.

Eve and Flynn had elected to stay back when they’d found out where the Torch was - something about sticking out like sore thumbs due to their age or whatever. Cassandra had suggested Jacob stay back then too, mostly teasing, which had gotten a squawk and a lot of grumbling on their way out the Back Door.

So. Simple plan really. Find the Torch, cover it, and bolt back through the Back Door before anyone was the wiser.

They didn’t really plan on the frat house being in the middle of a party - homecoming if the half torn down banner was anything to go by. As far as Ezekiel was concerned, that just made it easier to slip in unnoticed. At a look, they all split and disappeared into the crowd.

The crowd was still in that excitable, cheery stage of drunk - no one was yelling excessively, no one was picking a fight, everyone just enjoying the bass and occasional scrap of actual music that could be heard over the crowd, and the proximity with everyone else. Ezekiel was pretty sure that’d last maybe another hour, hour and a half. With any luck, they’d be well gone by then.

If asked later, he could maybe say it was the elbow to the back as he slid through a too-small space between people. Maybe the high-pitched shriek that dissolved into giggles the next room over. Hell, maybe just the press of bodies, but one moment he was moving, looking too hard at every source of light he could and the next-

-where was Eve? Where the fuck was Eve? She’d just been at his side, swinging a crowbar while he’d gone to town with the bat, every other second punctuated by the sick crack of aluminum on flesh and bone. Another spray of blood to the face  _ (someone’s drink, some small, unheard part of his brain would record for later) _ . Another swing, another crack that echoed despite the yells and groans blocking out his own thoughts.

“Eve! Eve, where- Eve!” his voice cracked, hard enough to hurt, familiar enough to push past to keep calling her name. She was suddenly at his side, shouting something, arms and front covered in blood and something darker he didn’t want to think about, knuckles white around her crowbar, and still breathing, still going, thank god.

She was shouting something, even as she kept swinging. He heard the words - could pick out where one started and the other began - but for the life of him, couldn’t string them together.

Then she was in his face, grabbing his arms, stopping his swing and no, no, they had to keep fighting, they had a chance, just a few more feet and they’d be at the save-

“-ekiel! Ezekiel! Come on man, come back to me- here we go.” That last part wasn’t directed at him, and why he could tell that but not where he was, why his feet were still moving, why he couldn’t move his arms, was beyond him.

Jacob’s face picked that moment to come into focus, leaving Ezekiel with a nauseating double vision where Jacob was there, but so was Eve, still in his face, still yelling something he couldn’t parse.

He saw the change in rooms - out of the crowded hallway, into a dark, quiet(ish) bedroom - as he was dragged more than felt his feet actually moving. Which probably explained why he stumbled and dropped heavily as soon as Jacob let go to close the door behind them. There was a sharp sound -  _ Jacob cursing, that unhelpful little piece of his mind supplied, completely unheard  _ \- and Jacob was back in his space, touching long enough to get Ezekiel seated against the wall before withdrawing his touch, but not his presence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I needed to get you out of there, I’m sorry I had to grab you-” He must’ve made a pained sound, because Jacob’s mouth snapped shut with a click. His eyes tracked over his face, but Ezekiel couldn’t say what the other man saw. He was still coming to grips with a couple things - like, suddenly they’re in a dark room when he was pretty sure last he’d seen he’d been on his own in a crowd of people and Eve had been there and-

He choked as he inhaled too sharply, caught between shouting for Eve and gasping in relief because Eve wasn’t there and that was a _good thing this time_ and the air burned down his throat, sending him coughing. Jacob let out a harsh sound beside him, hands coming up to do- something, Ezekiel didn’t know and was too focused on dragging air into his lungs around the coughing to care much. They never made contact anyway, not until he’d finally caught his breath and was slumped back against the wall again.

“Is- is it okay if I touch you?” it took him a moment to recognize Jacob’s voice, pitched too low, fighting with the bass he could now pick out in the background noise. He sounded like when he was pulling Cassandra out of a spiral. Huh.

His throat clicked when he tried to answer so he just nodded. Jacob muttered something again, too low for Ezekiel to catch, pushing back into his space as he settled against the wall beside him, an arm coming around his shoulders to pull him close. It left him able to pull forward if he wanted to escape, but still with support at his back and side, and he felt himself go limp against his side with a groan.

He didn’t know how long they sat there - it felt like hours, but was probably closer to minutes - but Jacob didn’t say a word, his thumb rubbing heavy circles into his shoulder, grounding like nothing else Ezekiel had tried in these past couple of months.

His breathing went through rough, jagged panting, to shuddery, to just… exhausted, but steady, and he found he didn’t want to move even by the time his hands stopped shaking -  _ when the hell had they started?  _ \- and Jacob didn’t seem in a hurry to make him.

He was vaguely aware of Jacob shifting at one point, and he didn’t mean to, but he tensed at the idea of Jacob - this grounding comfort beside him that he could maybe be embarrassed about later - leaving. He didn’t though, just pulled out his phone to check something, tapping out a quick reply one-handed before tucking it away again.

“Cassandra found the Torch. Out back - apparently masquerading as a tiki torch. She’s already back in the Library.” his voice stayed that low rumble from earlier and Ezekiel found himself relaxing that little bit more.

His limbs felt heavy when he finally felt like the ground beneath him wasn’t about to tilt or shake or vanish, but he pushed himself away, Jacob’s arm falling easily to let him.

“...I’m gonna go get some water. You gonna be okay for a minute?” he waited for Ezekiel to nod again before pushing himself up and slipping out, closing the door behind him. Ezekiel wasn’t a huge fan at being alone - the dark, though a hell of a lot easier on his sense than any light would be, he knew, had an unfortunate side-effect of giving everything a slightly unreal look and even though the ground wasn’t coming up to swallow him anymore, there was still the sound of teeming bodies just beyond the door, and he could still hear someone shouting… something, and that bass was grating at his ears and was that Eve shoutin-

“Hey, here, take a drink okay?” When did Jacob get back? He blinked a couple times and the room settled back into place, Jacob crouched in front of him, holding out a plastic cup, eyeing him worriedly.

Rather than say anything to that, he just took the cup, gulping the water down greedily when the first sip didn’t immediately make his stomach squirm. When the hell had his throat gotten that dry?

“...Good?” Jacob asked when he was done. Ezekiel paused, running through a checklist he’d developed in the past couple months - he was still at the frat house; they’d been here for the Lampades’ Torch; Eve and Cassandra were back at the Library; nothing was going sideways, nothing hurt besides his throat; the place around him smelled like sweat and alcohol, only somewhat muffled by the door; he could hear people, but they sounded as cheerful as they had when he’d approached the place. Jacob waited patiently, watching him quietly.

“...Think so.” his voice sounded scratched all to hell, but he could talk, so he’d call that a win. Jacob visibly relaxed anyway, so definitely a win.

Ezekiel had a vague notion he should probably be feeling embarrassed right now (which was bullshit, he knew, but he had the idea that a lot of people  _ would  _ be, so maybe he should too), being caught out that badly, in the middle of a case, but all he really felt was tired. And Jacob wasn’t asking for an explanation, wasn’t pushing him to spill his guts here and now.

So. If that vague notion ever actually became a thing, it could be later. Or not at all. He’d prefer not at all, honestly. This was the fastest he’d come down since this whole mess started and he really just wanted to get home to sleep off the adrenaline crash he could feel sluggishly crawling through his body.

“You okay to go? We can get back to the Library and then get you back home.”

“Ah… yeah, sounds good…” there was a part of his brain yelling that going back to the Library meant the others would see him and he didn’t really like the idea of that right now, but was too exhausted to put his finger on why-

“Hey Jenkins,” Jacob was already on the phone. He really needed to move slower, Ezekiel was missing too many movements, “we need a door, and a turn around to Ezekiel’s place. Someone caught a lucky punch in the crowd, so he’s a little out of it. No concussion that I can tell, think he just needs to rest soon. Yeah, I’ll stay with him,” he paused, glancing at Ezekiel. Looking for permission he realized. Ezekiel blinked, then nodded.

The idea of being alone, now that he was thinking about it, wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Thanks Jenkins.” he ended the call, tucking the phone back in his pocket. “Alright, up ya get.” he kept his hands in Ezekiel’s line of sight, moving slowly enough that he could pull away if he wanted. Fuck that. His legs felt like jello.

He didn’t quite cling to Jacob like a limpet, but it was close. Something else he could maybe be embarrassed about later (but not likely).

In the morning, he’ll remember stumbling into the Library, only to do an about face and stumble into his living room. For now, he just recognizes the door to his room and shuffles that way, fully intending to collapse and sleep for the next twelve hours.

“If you need anything, I’ll be out here okay?” he paused, glancing back. Right, Jacob.

“Ah… right, thanks.” He was pretty sure his smile was too small, too thin, but Jacob seemed to take it for what it was, and smiled back before dropping on the couch.

Ezekiel made it to his room without any other interruptions. And, if he left the door open just enough to hear when Jacob started snoring from the couch. Well, being alone still didn’t sound like that great an idea is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Couple things, in order of importance:  
> \- If you feel I have presented Ezekiel's PTSD wrongly, please, let me know. I am working off my own experiences with being mentally ill and research, but I do not personally deal with PTSD. I would rather get better at presenting it thoughtfully than get out of editing a piece!  
> \- If you feel there should be a certain tag/warning added, feel free to let me know!  
> \- I am taking Librarians prompts over on [ tumblr](https://distinctivelibrarians.tumblr.com) (anything sfw is currently a go!)  
> \- I'm considering a second chapter, with Ezekiel and Jake actually having a much needed conversation the next morning; nothing planned yet, but if that's something you'd want to see, let me know?
> 
> (last thing, title is taken from Amaryllis by Shinedown)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter! I'm so glad people liked it? Not just because it was the first prompt I filled, but because it dealt with a lot of stuff that I wanted to make sure was portrayed well.
> 
> And I'm sorry this took long to get up. It didn't go where I thought it would, but I rather like where it ended up? Hope you do too!

Waking up the next morning was… well, it was difficult. Certainly not impossible, despite the headache pounding behind his temples, the dryness of his throat, or the imprint of an ache in his arms. Truth be told, he’d had worse hangovers.

He’d never woken up imagining the smell of bacon though. Which meant he was either a, still dreaming, b, nursing a hitherto unknown head injury or c, Jacob was cooki-

...Jacob was still here.

That didn’t flood his mind with memories of last night or anything - he’d gotten up to date when he’d felt his arms aching - but it was still… unexpected? He’d expected the cowboy to be out the door by now, after they got back here and it was obvious Ezekiel was out for the count.

Then again, he did say he’d be out there in case Ezekiel needed anything. Probably meant that until he got the go ahead, he intended to stay.

Ezekiel… well. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed by that, honestly. He didn’t need coddling - he’d been coming down from panic attacks on his own for months now, and, even if they’d sucked (and, don’t get him wrong, they had royally sucked), he’d always been fine once he got some rest and had a bit of time to process.

(But. It was kinda nice, knowing that if he’d woken up with another attack, or even just a panicky feeling, stuck in his chest, like he sometimes got, that someone would’ve been there.)

Okay. So. Jacob was here. Didn’t matter how he felt about that (it would matter  _ later _ , sure. When he was alone again. But not  _ now _ ). He was here. He was cooking breakfast apparently. He probably wouldn’t leave until he got an all clear from Ezekiel. Which would mean Ezekiel would have to go out there to actually, you know, see him. The question was, would he even fit in the kitchen with the elephant in the room to compete with.

(He remembers, last night, wondering if he should be embarrassed about what happened. How he hadn’t much cared then, not with a solid weight at his side keeping him grounded, a low voice keeping him in the here and now. It’s not embarrassment he feels now, not quite. But he’s also not… eager to talk about it. He just wants to move on with his day.)

Seeing Jacob in his kitchen, when he actually makes it out there, is a little weird. He’s down to his undershirt, clothes as obviously slept in as Ezekiel’s own (which he’s just now realizing he probably should’ve changed out of… whoops), poking around the kitchen, trying to find whatever it is he needs in the unfamiliar space. The sight was… odd. But it took him a moment to realize why. Jacob wasn’t hiding what was left of his tattoo. He wasn’t nearly as jumpy about it as he’d been, sure, but it was still rare that he let anyone see it on purpose.

(He could over analyze this so easily. Jacob could’ve just forgotten to grab his shirt when he’d woken up - he’s not showing it on purpose, not putting himself in an open spot like Ezekiel feels stuck in-)

He’s managed to get the coffee machine going though. And find the ingredients for bacon and pancakes. He knew he had the former, is kind of surprised he had the latter, especially since he’s pretty sure he hasn’t gone grocery shopping in awhile.

“Just gonna watch Jones, or you gonna help?” he doesn’t jump. He doesn’t, okay.

(-except he’s not trying to hide it now that it’s obvious he knew Ezekiel was there.)

“Looks like you’ve got it covered, cowboy.” He shoots back, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. Jacob just rolls his eyes (he doesn’t actually turn to face him. But Ezekiel can practically  _ feel  _ the expression aimed at him) and shakes his head.

“At least find your damn plates.” And Ezekiel can manage that. Does so, even, without offering more sarcasm. Two plates are loaded up with more food than Ezekiel normally eats in two mornings (what can he say. You have to actually, you know, get up, to eat breakfast. Why do that when you can sleep until noon instead?) and he shuffles them to the little table just off the kitchen that serves as a work desk, storage, closet, and occasionally somewhere to eat.

Clothes and papers end up on the floor, and look at that, space to eat.

Jacob made a noise that sounded suspiciously like bitten back laughter, covered unsuccessfully by a snort, but Ezekiel just plopped down on one of the newly freed chairs. Coffee appeared in front of him a moment later before Jacob dropped down across from him.

He wouldn’t call the next couple of quiet minutes tense or anything - they were both too focused on their food for that.

But he was… uncomfortably aware of Jacob, and of the silence. He just wanted this to be done with. Get back to the Library, get started on another job, or even just go back to sleep, just  _ something _ .

“...So. Chance of - awesome pancakes by the way - you forgetting what happened yesterday? At all?” No point in waiting around.

Jacob didn’t even look up from his plate. “Nope.”

“...Since when can you cook anyway?” Distraction, maybe. If it’s at all family related, there’s about a fifty-fifty shot of Jacob shutting down. It’s an underhanded shot, and Ezekiel feels bad about using it the second it’s out of his mouth - but, it’s out there, so he can’t really do anything about it after the fact.

“Since food needed to be on the table and Pop wasn’t gonna do it.” Not even a twitch. Dammit. (Made him feel slightly better though.) “Nice try though.” He finally looked up, pushing his empty plate away from him. He looked... thoughtful.

Ezekiel didn’t really like it. He felt… exposed, in a way he hadn’t last night. And he’s not sure if that’s because he couldn’t take in a whole lot last night or if having Jacob’s attention now is just that much heavier in the early morning light. He was too busy trying to figure out how to get out from under the weight of that look that he almost missed Jacob talking again.

“-e you okay?” What? He must’ve looked confused, because Jacob just snorted, “Are you okay?” he repeated, all patience, “You weren’t all that lucid when we got back last night.”

He rolled a shoulder, stuffing another forkful of pancake into his mouth to avoid answering for a moment. “Fine, mate.” he paused, turning everything over in his head for a moment, “Thanks for staying.” And another forkful of pancakes. The first spike of actual embarrassment hit him, hard, but he resolutely shoved it away. He  _ was  _ grateful, and he wasn’t enough of a dick to keep that to himself after everything.

(And maybe, if he gave enough, Jacob wouldn’t push for more. It was a slim chance, but Ezekiel would take what he could get.)

“We both know I wasn’t asking about right now.”

“Doesn’t change my answer.” Jacob snorted, clearly unimpressed. Ezekiel just gave him a cheeky smile, shrugging, and going back to his food.

“Look, Jones…” he goes quiet, and Ezekiel resolutely does not look up. Jacob was either going to figure out what to say, or let it drop. He heard the other man draw in a deep breath, and despite his best efforts, he felt himself tense. “Look. I’m not going to say I wasn’t… worried.”

The catch made Ezekiel pause, glancing up from his plate to take in the hitch in the other man’s shoulders, the way he was looking resolutely at the floor. He was  _ scared _ , Ezekiel realized, and only just now letting it show. And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth.

“I’m not going to ask why you didn’t tell us - I am the  _ last  _ person to have the right to ask that, I get it - and I’m not gonna ask you to tell anyone else. That’s your choice, either way. But what I  _ will  _ do is make you a deal. You tell me, right now, completely honestly - don't give me the crap about not lying, Jones, we both know how to sidestep,” Ezekiel felt his teeth click slightly as he snapped his mouth shut, “that you’d be better off with me ignoring everything that happened last night, that you feel like you can handle this completely on your own, then I’ll back off. I’ll trust you on that. But if you're not, then I just need you to tell me how I can help. 'Cause that's all I wanna do.” He voice was rough at the end of that speech, pushed out on fast breath like he was trying to get through it without losing his nerve.

It… wasn’t what he was expecting, if Ezekiel was being honest. He’d expected pushing, accusing, demanding. Questioning.  _ Why haven’t you told anyone, what do you remember, how bad is it, did you think you could hide this, what if you’d put us in danger by having an attack in the middle of an important case? _

They were all questions he’d seen the others asking, when he’d humored the idea of telling anyone.

But Jacob… wasn’t doing that. It was clear he  _ wanted  _ too - he was too curious (they all were, honestly) to let anything lie that quietly - but he was trying.

He thought back to last night. Jacob had jumped in as quickly as he was able, shepherding him out of the crowd and then  _ apologized  _ for grabbing him. Had made sure he was able to say yes to being touched again. To being alone for a moment. Had kept him away from the prying eyes in the rest of the Library without so much as a blink. Had stayed - hell, had made breakfast the next morning - just to make sure he was okay.

And now he was offering to walk away, no matter how much he knew it would kill them both. And it would, Ezekiel realized. He had come down so quickly last night - had felt  _ safe  _ going to sleep so soon after for the first time.

He needed this. As much as it galled him to need anything for something he was fine with handling on his own.

“...It’s.” He stops. Breathes. Ignores that little voice in his head telling him to  _ stop, run, no  _ “It doesn’t happen often. Anymore.” He’s halting, jerky. Jacob stays silent, giving him this, and Ezekiel feels so stupidly grateful it almost chokes him for a moment. Breathes again. “Haven’t figured out if anything… normally causes it. Still don’t know what flipped last night. But uh… you did fine.” Completely underselling that, but whatever.

“I do… want to tell the others.”  _ Want  _ is maybe a strong word. But he know he needs too. Eve worked best when she knew everything about her team, and he trusts her enough to make calls in the interest of their safety, rather than just pulling him out at the slightest scare. “Eventually. I just want to get a handle on it first.” Jacob was nodding, that intent, thoughtful look on his face again. It wasn’t as heavy this time, as suffocating - it was surprisingly grounding, though.

There was still a lot to figure out, Ezekiel knew. And there would be a lot of growing pains. Jacob was a jump first, look later kind of guy (they all were. He’s noticing a pattern here…), so it wasn’t like he was going to be perfect at something like this when not even Ezekiel knew what was the correct way to handle these things most of the time.

But, that solid weight that settled at his side last night, that made him feel safe and settled in his skin, that smothered that panicky feeling that normally caved in his chest, was going to be there now. It was something he could look forward too.

And just like that, he could breathe.

Ezekiel would be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments/kudos/feedback are always welcome!


End file.
